


Don’t Do That Again

by mhunter10



Series: Something, something mpreg [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:18:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey have a scary night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Do That Again

Ian woke up when he heard Mickey make a breathy moaning sound. He’d been dreaming about driving on some road, but it was gone in a flash when he sat up and noticed his boyfriend doubled over their dresser with his head down in the dark. He quickly got out of bed and came over to him. Mickey grabbed his hand and squeezed it, sucking in through his teeth and letting it out shakily.

"Mickey, what’s wrong?" He asked, ignoring the tight grip and putting his other hand on his back. He leaned over to get a better look at Mickey’s face, which was sweaty and screwed up. "What hurts, Mick? You have to talk to me!" He didn’t mean to raise his voice that much, but he was starting to panic.

Mickey was breathing hard and loud, in through his nose and out through his mouth. His grimace of pain began to relax a bit, and he slowly straightened up from his hunched-over position. He still had a hold on Ian’s hand, but that lessened too, as the intense feeling in the pit of his stomach subsided.

"Mick?" Ian sounded so worried, Mickey felt a little bad. How many times was he going to freak this guy out before he finally cracked?

"I thought," Mickey began in a low voice, still concentrated on whatever was going on inside him, "…I didn’t think it was that bad, so I didn’t want to wake you."

"What’s bad? What’s going on, Mickey? Is it the baby?" Ian reached over and flicked the light on, squinting at its sudden brightness but still keeping his eyes on Mickey. "Sit down." He started to pull him over to the bed, but Mickey stayed gripping the dresser.

"No, no! I don’t wanna sit down! It hurts more," Mickey’s voice broke, and a few tears actually welled up in his eyes and fell. He took his hand out of Ian’s and wiped at his face, then turned and leaned back over the dresser, feeling the pain start to stir again. "Fuck, fuck….Ah!" He ducked his head and whined.

Ian was by Mickey’s side in an instant, rubbing his back and trying to keep from screaming. His eyes were blown wide and a million things were racing through his head. He searched his brain for something to grasp onto, anything that would explain what the hell was happening. When it seemed like Mickey had reached a plateau, he asked, “Is it contractions?”

Mickey was panting through another sharp pain, trying to move his heavy body in a way that wouldn’t feel like it was trying to kill him. “I don’t know,” he gritted.

“What does it feel like?” At least Mickey was able to talk, which meant whatever it was was coming down…for now. Ian stroked his fingers through his hair and pressed his lips to his temple.

“I don’t know, like my stomach is having a heart attack? It hurts, man.” He took three big breaths and let them out slowly, feeling like the worst was over. He relaxed a little, leaning against Ian.

Ian couldn’t stand this. Mickey was shaking and his shirt was soaked through. He needed to do something. “Did you call Dr. Sareef?” He didn’t stop his hand massaging his back and shoulders. He needed to get him out of these clothes.

Mickey nodded then added, “He didn’t pick up. I tried twice.” Mickey was exhausted. He’d been up since he felt the first twinge wake him. That had been an hour and fifteen minutes ago, and that little twinge had increased in intensity off and on.

Ian shook his head and cursed. “I’m gonna try him again. Do you think you can get dressed?”

Mickey looked up and him, not really focusing on anything besides his internal panicking. “Why?”

Ian had already started pulling on his shoes and a sweatshirt, then brought Mickey some sweats and a new shirt. “In case I don’t reach him, I want to take you to the hospital.”

“What? No! We don’t—”

Ian whipped around and took Mickey by the shoulders, giving him a look that said there would be no argument. “Yes, Mickey. We’re going. Put those on.” He turned and left the room, grabbing his phone and the car keys.

Mickey stood there a moment, feeling like he was going to be sick, but oddly comforted by Ian stepping in and taking control like that. He put a hand to his huge belly. There was no movement, just the dull ache of pain shooting into his core. Was this it? Was this how it started? And if not, what would happen to the life inside him?

“It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered tearfully. He hurried to change into the clothes Ian gave him, before things could get worse. For some reason just thinking it made it seem possible any minute.

///////

The entire way to the hospital was a struggle for both of them. For Mickey because he was trapped in a seated position with no way to shift so that he wasn’t constantly in worse pain. And for Ian because he had to concentrate on getting them there fast, but legally, all while trying to calm his boyfriend down. If Mickey wasn’t panting, trying to catch his breath between shocks, he was letting out various sounds of frustration and groaning. It helped a little when Ian breathed slowly with him, but it felt stupid just like when they’d taken that recommended class and never went back. Mickey’s knuckles were white where he held on to the car and Ian’s hand. The only thing that saved that part for Ian, was that occasionally Mickey would kiss his hand as a sort of apology…and maybe some gratefulness that he had him there.

When they finally arrived and parked, Mickey just made it inside, barely able to walk. He was cursing and crying, Ian had to take him aside and talk him out of ripping every nurse a new one. They sat him in a wheelchair and rushed him off to the emergency room, with Ian trailing alongside the whole way. Mickey wouldn’t have it any other way. Hearing him demand the father of his child not leave his sight, made Ian swell with pride for just a moment because there was still the question of what was going to happen to Mickey and that child. Ian held his hand when they had to put an oxygen mask on him because they weren’t getting enough. He kept saying, “eyes on me”, when it looked like Mickey’s freaking out was making things more difficult. He could tell Mickey hated hearing everybody else tell him what to do and how and trying to reassure him. He only listened and believed when Ian said it, talking to him in a calm low voice because he only wanted Mickey to hear him. He wiped his tears and even ran the back of his hand through some of his own.

It all seemed like a blur, now that they were in a different room and everything was okay. It was semi-dark and the t.v. was on low, flashing some action movie across the screen. Monitors beeped and whirred beside the bed where Mickey was drifting off in Ian’s arms. His head was on Ian’s chest, as Ian held his stomach, rubbing it slowly. He was drowsy after the ordeal and the medicine they had pumped him full of. His breathing was slow, almost matching Ian’s. Ian tilted his head up and looked at him a minute, before bringing their lips together softly.

“You scared me,” Ian said so quietly, Mickey almost thought he dreamed it. He kissed him again, longer and harder, caressing his face. “You scared me,” he repeated, holding him a bit tighter.

“I know,” Mickey whispered. He wondered how he could be so out of it, and yet still coherent enough to form words. He was so tired. And even though it was all over, he still felt a bit scared to go to sleep, like it could all happen again. Their doctor had finally showed up and set everything right, explaining it all away with something about blood pressure. It was so far away now, even though it had only been two hours. They set them up to stay overnight so they could keep an eye on things, and that was that.

Ian was exhausted, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. Probably for the same reason Mickey kept waking himself up until he just couldn’t anymore. That was fine with Ian. Mickey needed the rest, and Ian could watch him all night if he had to. He pulled the covers higher up Mickey and wrapped his arms around him as much as he could. He kissed him again and again all over his face and hair, making Mickey smile slightly for the first time since earlier in the day. It was now a new day, and they could hear birds start to chirp outside the window.

Ian made Mickey look at him, locking their eyes together. “Don’t do that again,” he said seriously, his voice cracking a little. His eyes got wet, but he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Mickey reached up and cupped his face, stroking his thumb on his cheek. Ian leaned into his hand and closed his eyes, turning to kiss it. “We promise.”


End file.
